Recruitment Posters
by ZutarianNaiad
Summary: In the ongoing war with the Drule, Galaxy Garrison needs more recruits. Introducing their newest recruitment campaign: PRINCESS ALLURA WANTS YOU!


Disclaimer: I don't own a thing, I promise. Though a drawing of Lance's target poster would be cool…

* * *

"Hey, boys? I need your help with something," said Allura as she entered the Pilots' Lounge holding a ridiculously large portfolio case.

"What can we help you with, Princess?" asked Keith, putting down his book. Pidge, Lance, and Hunk looked up from a three-sided game of space checkers that was close to dissolving into a fight.

"You remember when we went to visit Houla Prime for the peace talks?"

"And Zarkon sent those flying robeasts after us? How could we forget?" Lance asked as he toyed with a tiny red hexagon.

"Well," Allura said as she laid the portfolio on the conference table, "after the attack, when we were invited to all those parties, I was approached by some people from the Galaxy Garrison Recruitment division."

"They wanted to recruit _you_, Princess?" Hunk asked.

"No. They wanted me to recruit other people," she answered, carefully choosing a four by three point five feet sheet from the portfolio. "Like this."

She spread the poster out over the table and stood back as the boys crowded around. Allura had chosen the first one for a reason—it had her with her hair up like it usually was to stay out of her face in a fight, her helmet under one arm. The photographer had told her to have a serious—yet pretty—expression on her face, and to point at the camera. Blue Lion was at her back, and they'd even changed her pink uniform to blue so it would match the lion.

So there it was, the flagship of the Alliance's new recruitment campaign: Princess Allura pointing to the galaxy at large, saying _**PRINCESS ALLURA WANTS **__**YOU!**__TALK TO A RECRUITER TODAY._

"Ms. Greyhen—from the recruitment division—said that this one would have a kind of general appeal. The others have… what did she say… _specific demographics_."

"Well, it's a good picture," Lance said. "I like the blue."

"Only so it would match, Lance. It's really great, Princess," Keith added enthusiastically.

"Is that all?" Hunk asked, looking at the portfolio.

"Oh, no! There's lots more!" Allura carefully drew the package closer and flipped through the poster samples. "Ms. Greyhen said she would send me a box of each of the poster to spread around Arus. Here's a good one." In this one the photographer had given her a prop rapier, told her to wear her hair down, blowing in the wind a studio fan created. He'd also altered her uniform's detailing to a dark blue instead of baby pink, and had her stand in the shadow of her lion's head, right next to the fangs. The legend was **FIGHT LIKE A GIRL. SIGN UP TODAY.**

"That'll get some response," Keith said, approval dripping from his tone.

"When are the posters going out?" Pidge asked.

"Just as soon as I give my approval for circulation," Allura answered.

"Well, I can't see why these wouldn't get approval," Keith said as Allura chose a third poster.

"Mainly the thing is not to give Nanny a chance to disapprove these," she half grumbled, laying the third one on the table.

The photographer had done a wonderful job editing this one—it really did look like she was lounging on a beach with Blue Lion standing sentry in the surf behind her.

"Um… Ms. Greyhen said this sort of thing was supposed to appeal to eighteen to twenty five year olds…" Allura said as she awkwardly avoided looking the boys in the eyes. "The photographer said something about fourteen to thirty-five year olds…"

There wasn't honestly anything _bad_ in the poster. She hadn't dressed in a way she was uncomfortable—it was just a royal blue bikini (and not en especially revealing one at that, as far as bikinis went), edited to be an exact match to the hue of her lion and the water. But the pose… it had _felt_ like a natural pose for lounging on the beach, but seeing it on the poster seemed… well, simply like something Nanny would throw a royal fit about. The photographer had also told her to do a number of faces—a smile, a pout, being impassive—but for this one he'd used words like "mischievous" and "playful." She wasn't sure how that would help with recruitment, but there were always the other posters. There wasn't anything wrong with the legend—_**Travel the galaxy. Be a hero. Meet exotic pilots. **_The variations of the poster had differing slogans—_**see exotic planets**_, _**travel the universe**_, _**meet exotic women**_, _**save worlds**_, _**meet exotic royalty**_; the list went on and on.

"Boys?"

"Can I get ten?" Lance asked. Allura was confused by the glares he got—defensive from Pidge, possibly envious from Hunk, and something else from Keith.

"Well, there's more—different slogans and poses and things. That's what I need help with."

"Princess—" Keith started, his voice an argument. He wasn't fast enough, though, because Allura already had three more posters on the table. She'd made sure these three were within easy reach, just in case she needed support.

One she thought Pidge would get behind—it was one of the few landscape-format posters, and in it she was wearing her normal pink jumpsuit against a dank dungeon wall. She was low to the ground, one leg stretched out, the other in a tight crouch with a serious looking laser blaster in her hands. In the foreground it read "_**Join up today and fight for right.**_"

The next, the one she'd chosen for Lance's aid, was an aerial view of her standing on the head of her lion, which appeared to be roaring. The entire outfit had come from the photographer's prop closet, from the flattering black combat boots to the tight, skinny jeans to the tight, dark blue t-shirt, to the photographer's personal favorite—an antique re-creation of an Earth World War II bomber jacket (he said nostalgia was a good look for her). In the poster Allura's hair was down, but straightened so that strands and locks of hair blew in ways her normal mane didn't. The only thing that remotely hinted at her being a princess was the discrete tiara on her forehead. She liked the legend—"**Join the battle and come fight with **_**me**_**. Talk to a recruiter today.**" She thought the legend was a bit wordy, but that's what proofs were meant to take care of.

She felt sure of Hunk's support with the next one. The photographer had made it from some pictures he'd obtained of Allura doing some charity work, which made kind of a split-screen module—four triangles for the corners, a diamond for the center. In the top right corner she stood in royal dress, waving to her people. In the top left she was covered in dirt, wearing her pilot uniform, and surrounded by fellow workers building a school. In the bottom left she was still in the pink jumpsuit (clean this time), surrounded by refugee children with a toddler in her arms. In the bottom right she was in the cockpit of her lion, scowling and apparently yelling. In the center over a starry background she was superimposed over her rather imposing blue lion, standing ready with her shoulders back, gloved hands in fists, with a blaster on her hip (edited in). In the night sky above her lion were the words "_MAKE A __**DIFFERENCE**__. JOIN UP TODAY._"

Pidge's jaw dropped. Lance pulled the poster targeted at him free from the others so he could properly appraise it. Hunk just grinned and nodded. Keith could tell he was being shut out.

"Um, Keith," Allura began sheepishly, pulling out a fourth poster which had stuck. This last one she simply found interesting—two profiles of her, back to back at the center of the poster; the left profile was Allura as a princess, the other as a pilot. Both versions held exactly similar expressions of strength and defiance. She wasn't sure about the slogan for recruiting—_**Strength is where you find it.**_

"Um, not all of them are necessarily recruitment posters," she said as Keith examined the poster. "The photographer said we could work out reproduction and sales rights after I had seen the proofs."

"They can put recruitment posters where they want—these are going to get stolen, Princess. Every young guy from here to Earth is going to want one on his wall," Lance said. "You could make a lot of money off of these."

"Well they said that it had a really wide marketability base. Um, the phrase they used was 'Nothing can sell nothing like a beautiful woman.' Keith?"

Keith looked up, the expression of coming back from very far away on his face. "Oh? What? Yes, I think they're fine. Is that what you wanted to know?"

"Well, I kind of wanted a boy's opinion on a few of these," Allura said. "You know—what I should approve and things."

"At your service," Lance said, smoothing his poster out.

"We all are," Pidge said. Allura shared a smile with her partners as she arranged the posters and handed out a few red grease pens to make notes on the proofs.

_

* * *

_

Six weeks later…

"Prince Lotor, you're needed on the evil bridge…" Hagar crowed over the intercom. Lotor glared at it and unceremoniously piled what he had been working on into a messy stack.

"Why would the witch disturb me now, in the middle of my evil plots for revenge?" He stood and tossed his hair, then fixed his helmet over it. Lotor marched to the bridge, certain he was striking fear and respect into the hearts of all he passed on the way.

"Ah, my worthless son," King Zarkon said as Lotor entered the bridge. "I thought you'd get a kick out of this."

"Oh?" Lotor asked.

His father held up a poster. It took Lotor a moment to realize what he was looking at. Then only basic anatomy saved Lotor's jaw from making a sizable dent in the map table of the [evil] bridge. His father laughed at the sight of him.

"What Lotor? Have you never seen your dear Princess Allura before?" King Zarkon asked, then he and Haggar cackled in unison.

Lotor tore his eyes from the image of his Allura in tight jeans and a t shirt and looked at the map table. Said furniture once again skirted disaster as his jaw dropped once more. Allura was everywhere, in pink and blue uniforms, bikinis, royal vestige, and more.

Somewhere in his brain, a small part that never stopped thinking of strategy—a very small part indeed, much reduced with current distractions—gathered that his father and the witch had only called him for a laugh. It also memorized the contact number and the publishing company. It also remembered his father's pass-code for his alliance bank account. That part of him smiled.

* * *

A/N: All I wonder is how long it would be before Nanny found out.

In Christ,

ZN


End file.
